


Gentle Waves

by reisearnor



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Beach Day, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 17:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reisearnor/pseuds/reisearnor
Summary: The cast takes a trip to the beach.Maki and Kaito spend some time together alone. Shenanigans ensue.Kiibo has a pet crab.





	Gentle Waves

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATED 2017/11 TO MATCH THE ENGLISH RELEASE.
> 
> This actually all started because I wanted to see Kiibo in a Hawaiian flower shirt and swim trunks. Of course, then I wondered what Maki and Kaito would wear, and whether they would share some affectionate moments while in these outfits. Finally, they just ended up at the beach. Enjoy a small everyone-lives AU, with an emphasis on Makaito.
> 
> Note: Other characters may appear briefly, but this is mostly a Makaito work. Sherman the Crab will make his appearance in Chapter 2. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maki's day at the beach starts with a loud interruption.

GENTLE WAVES

**Chapter 1 - Lowered Defenses**

“Yo! You’re taking an awfully long time in there. Somethin’ the matter?”

A loud voice assaults my ear drums, even from outside the tent. Seriously, did he always have to speak in such a raucous manner? My face feels hotter for some reason, but probably because of the midday sun. We _are_ at the beach, after all. Yes, even though I’m currently – not hiding, mind you - in a tent with the air condition cranked to max, it’s surely the heat that’s getting to me. Undoubtedly.

Entangled in my thoughts as I was, the brute outside must have taken that as some kind of signal. “I’m coming in!”

He’s… WHAT?! Startled out of my reverie, I instinctively grab the object closest to me in an attempt to cover myself. Where is this bout of shyness coming from? Damn, damn, damn-

“Haruma… Whoa.”

He must have noticed what I’m wearing: A standard white two-piece swimsuit, the bottom ending in some type of frilly array. I didn’t understand the appeal, but it was long enough to hide a single weapon within, so I’d chosen it for this occasion specifically. After all, I’d feel too vulnerable around without one, especially with dangers I couldn’t predict… or unexpected nuisances, like the one in front of me.

The silence is so deep, it seems as though we’re lost in it. Curiously, his face has begun to turn a light shade of pink, reaching up to the tip of his ears. What could he possibly be thinking?

Hmph. Were _they_ too small for someone as dim-witted, as indecent as him? He probably wished I was shaped like Akamatsu or Iruma, with curves so full they were impossible to ignore. Well, if he doesn’t like them, he should take a hike. After all, no one’s asking him to look, especially not me. Shoo.

I can still feel his intense gaze. It engulfs me, and my face threatens to become even hotter. Was this man raised in a barn? Stop staring! It’s making me… what’s the saying? Weak in the knees? Self-conscious? Longing? Ah, he makes me so mad!

My hand itches to ball into a fist. The fabric within my grip shapes easily to my shaking hand, and it’s only then that I finally notice what I’m holding.

A quick glance at his face reveals to me how happy he is, even though he tries desperately to hide it. The corners of his mouth are crooked into a small smile, and I’m captivated by the gentle glint in his eye. I sigh. He has the worst poker face I’ve ever seen, and wears his heart on his sleeve for anyone to see. I used to think it a weakness, but I’ve seen the true power of its light. I’m drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Wait. What is with me today?!

Gasping, I hastily deposit his jacket back on the table, where it had been previously discarded in the others’ rush to get outside. Why is this thing even here in the first place? It’s hot enough just peeking outside from the safety of the tent, and the mere thought of wearing it in such stifling heat makes me shiver. It’s pure nonsense, definitely befitting of its owner.

Just as I’m wondering whether his jacket has a personal grudge to plunge me into such a mess, I hear a strange sound. I don’t quite understand it until I find the source, and even then, I’m stunned. A deep sound bounces off the walls, hitting me with a jolt that I quickly channel into a scowl. He’s laughing, but why? I don’t think I’ve acted in such a way that would cause this sort of reaction, but I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m the source.

The laughter finally ebbs, and a grinning Kaito Momota recovers from his hunched over position, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You have three seconds to spill. Just _what_ is so funny?”

My cheeks are definitely puffed and red, but I can’t stop my face from betraying me like this. He’s the only one that brings out this side of me, and I’m helpless.

“You do… realize you have clothing on right…? But seeing you so frantic when you’re wearing more than I am… just brings a tear to my eye, y’know? Didn’t take you for that kind of girl… pfft.”

My eyes, as if acting of their own accord, slowly drift downwards. I had been so focused on myself that I had had no time to examine the figure in front of me.

He continues talking, oblivious. “And haha, it’s just ME! No need to be shy. Unless you’re in shock at how much our nightly workouts have paid off? HUPFF!” He strikes a heroic pose. With each word, a frightening dark aura begins to drift towards him.

“Anyways, I’m glad you seem to be okay. Didn’t think you’d be able to scrunch your face up so much though. It’s kind of cute… hey… what’s the ma-WHAGHH?!”

“PUT THAT… _THING_ … AWAY, YOU BIG IDIOT!! DO YOU WANT TO DIE?” If that didn’t get through to him, hopefully the punch to the gut would. He’s now hunched over again, albeit for a different reason than before. _Serves him right for bringing along such a barbaric, utterly atrocious purple speedo._ Seriously, did the robot pick it out? What man in his right mind would go parading around all day in _that_?

“Damn. I seriously gotta… hah… work on my… charm, huh?”

A thought suddenly occurs to me. _How many others have seen him in this?_

Faster than the eye can track, I dart around him and barricade the entrance to the tent with my body. Apparently recovered, and now scratching his head in confusion, he opens his mouth to speak-

“No.”

“But I didn’t even sa-“

I fold my arms and summon the most menacing gaze I can muster, tilting my head ever so slightly. He doesn’t back down though. Does he find this cute? How aggravating. This is probably a game to him, and even if I don’t see it as one, I don’t intend on losing the upper ground for even one moment.

“You’re not leaving this tent until you put on some proper clothing. _I mean it_.” I gesture vaguely. This is quite the pressing issue. Does he not know how little there is left to the imagination? I cannot allow others to see so much of him. I refuse to let anyone else see.

There’s so much tension in the air between our locked eyes, you could almost tangibly cut it with a knife.

“Well?”

In response, he closes the distance between us with a single stride, and it takes everything I’ve got not to stand down at his presence in my personal space. Beaming innocently, he pokes at my cheek with a finger. What next tickles my ear is a whisper so soft that I strain to hear it. “Damn. Never thought I’d see the day where I met my match.”

“What was that?”

“I said I give. Just this once though, alright? And it’s only ‘cause my winning streak has been going on for waaay too long.” He sends me a wink, flashes his thumb upwards with one hand, and claps me on the back with his other. It’s enough to knock me from my stance, and his grin only grows wider in the meantime. He sure does talk a big game. I want to question him about the existence of this winning streak when suddenly, he prods my back. “Hm?”

A shiver, now of embarrassment, trickles down my spine. Shit. He’s discovered the reason why I’ve been holed up in the tent all this time. How could I have let my guard down like this? Was this his plan all along?

“Just s-so you know, I-I am NOT a child… I just…” I sputter defensively.

In preparation for the intense heat, I’d been applying sunscreen to my arms, legs, and face. Admittedly, maybe I’d even gone a little overboard. My skin is quite fair though, and so the sunscreen thankfully blends in when I rub it around evenly.

Where the problem lies is my mid to upper back. There’s no doubt he hasn’t failed to see the randomly sized splotches that I attempted to pour once I found a place I couldn’t reach. I’d even pulled my hair into a ponytail and tried to use it to spread the lotion, but it just made track marks, as well as resulting in more sunscreen in the ends of my hair than on my back. Hair paint brush? I’m such a dumbass. _It’s only desperation making me this way._

He’s trying to hold back a smirk, but failing miserably. “And just so _you_ know, if you needed help, I’m sure the other girls would’ve been happy to lend you a hand if you just asked.”

I know they would have. Part of me wants to reach out to them, but my pride just won’t allow it. I’ve relied on myself all this time; I _need_ to be able to rely on myself. If I can’t trust myself, who can I trust? It may be irrational of me, but asking others for help is like accepting defeat, and in my line of work, failure is simply unacceptable. The consequences are worse than death.

As if he can sense my frustration at myself, his expression hardens immediately. “Maki.”

Since when were we on a first-name basis? First the pet names, and now this. The nerve of-

“Sit.” With a loud exhale, he sloppily lowers himself down in front of me, crosses one leg over the other, and pats the ground before him. As if knowing I’ll refuse, he explains before I can tell him to get lost. “So we’re clear, you’re not asking for my help, I’m offering it.”

Does he… understand what I’m thinking? No, that can’t possibly be it. There’s no way someone like him could possibly be on the same wavelength. And yet, this isn’t the first gesture of kindness he’s shown me. No matter how times I feel I let him down, he refuses to do what any sane person would do and give up on such a lost cause. I guess I’m… really thankful for that annoying habit of his.

A smile tugs at my lips, but I look away before he can see. “Right here will be fine.” I settle myself down a generous distance away, out of habit.

“You’re kidding right? Man, I knew you had some pretty high expectations of me, but even I can’t do this from all the way across the room…” Another sigh. “Do you need me to put you on my lap?”

“Shut up before I make you.” I shuffle backwards until I’m at a reasonable distance.

“Hah, it was just a joke. Sorry for pulling that one, but it was just too hard to resist. Damn, which bottle did you use again? And what in the hell is this other one?”

“The blue sports lotion is mine.”

As Momota reaches for the bottle that matches my description, he rolls the other somewhat questionable one towards me. A spark of recognition hits me. “Ah, this is K1-B0’s. A certain someone gave him the idea that if he slathered motor oil on himself, it would protect him from the sun. How absurd. Robots don’t tan, and this is obviously vegetable oil. How could he not question how quickly Ouma pulled it out? And why did Ouma even have it on him in the first place? The robot’s way too accepting of anything that comes out of that troublemaker’s mouth.”

My words continue to spill out, albeit softly now. “But… at the same time, I envy him. To have trust in others’ kindness right off the bat… sounds like a less exhausting way to live.” I pause, a little surprised by my wistful tone. _I wish I could be more like that._

“More tiring, sure, but there’s good in earning trust too, I think. Shows how close you really are to someone, when you can both be reckless and lower your defenses.”

“Hmm…!!” A cold touch to my back startles me, but it’s gentle and not unpleasant in the slightest. I find myself relaxing into the touch before my mind kicks in, and it takes all my self-control not to push him away at that very moment. What are we doing? And why is my heart racing?

“Hold still or you’ll mess it up.” With two fingers, he dabs a single line down my back, and then another one parallel to it. Finally, he traces a semicircle underneath. “A true masterpiece.”

Before he can finish the spikes for hair that will complete his little sunscreen self-portrait, I jab my elbow backwards until I feel it connect with an idiot. Hopefully that’s enough to mess up his lines and have him take something seriously for once.

As if on cue, the hand on my back smudges the creation, and rubs it into my skin in large circles. There’s no hesitation in the motion, and his touch is warm and soft. My eyes close. I wonder if he feels anything, if this simple connection is making his heart pound just a little faster. I hope he feels as at peace as I am, trapped in the moment and not minding a single bit.

The hand leaves my back as suddenly as it arrives, and with it the warmth I have come to rely on. I hate to admit it, but I’m reluctant to leave the moment behind as only a memory. Palms smack together behind me.

“Alright! We’re ready to go-” I turn around and see Momota dashing for the entrance. I’m glad I don’t see anything but his backside, because I’m sure the speedo is having a hard time keeping everything in. When I cough loudly, he stops mid-stride.

“You still need to put on clothes. But there’s no way you would have forgotten, _right_?” I crack a towel against my hand a few times for good measure.

He’s hopeless.


End file.
